


Checkmate

by MMEGmo



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:42:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8679073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MMEGmo/pseuds/MMEGmo
Summary: Just something I started writing at 4.30 am





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I started writing at 4.30 am

I roam the dusty warzone. With every step I take I hear skeleton bones break under my feet. The ground is made of black and white bones. I can't tell if it's my bones or demon bones my boots break with each step. It smells of a fire, a smell I oddly like. The whole feeling of the warzone makes me feel at home, it is sacred ground, it's a part of me. I reach a small village of four houses, all of them burning, all of them covered in  the ash of the victims of this war. The sky is gray, a result of the black demon ash and my white ash. It never made sense to me, why it was represented like that. I am not pure, yet my ashes are white. I wear black clothes, but still my ashes are the opposite color. At the end of the fourth house I see him standing, his posture makes him look confident, and his hands behind his back makes him look unpredictable, as always. He's wearing a black coat that extends all the way to the ground to form a train behind him, the sleeves are cut off to show his red-painted forearms and pale shoulders. His eyes look at me, invitingly. Well, as invitingly as red eyes  _can_ look. His white hair is ever so perfectly hanging down onto his soft face. I walk towards him with a quick pace, keeping a steady eye contact with him as I try not to stumble across the bones. "Missed me?" He says and opens up his arms. I fall into them, and he wraps his red painted, cold arms around my tired body. "It's hard, I know. Not knowing what side you're on." He says, trying to calm me. I sigh into his chest and I pull away, he's still holding me close to him. His red eyes pierce through mine in a demonic way. They look like two bloody galaxies, floating through space. "I've missed you," I confess "I've really missed you.". He keeps staring into my eyes, his eyes lose their haunting tint and they die for a bit, going a bit pink. "What side are you on?" His grip loosens up a bit and he takes a step back. "I don't know," I answer "I just want this to be over. Going on and not being sure of whether I'll make something out of myself seems too risky. Going with you is also risky, you're a good liar, I can't know if what you've been telling me is true." His eyes turn black in an instant, and he closes them, I can't tell if he's ashamed or planning something. "You don't know half of what I've been through. You're basically suicidal over spilled milk. I've seen hell, I've heard enough about heaven to know that I don't want anything to do with it. My father could create something for us,  _somewhere_ " I try to remind myself who his father is, I try to remember why this is happening. "Just look around you, this is all just a metaphor," the houses fly up into the gray sky and I find myself sitting on the floor of my bedroom, shaking. " _It's all in your head_ " he reminds me " _I could take you to somewhere real_ ". I find myself back in the warzone. "All of these bones are ours," he says "Stop torturing yourself." 


End file.
